all these little things
by saint-berry
Summary: Prompt: Rachel wrote a list of the ten things she wanted in her future husband when she was about eight. Jesse found it one day, ticked them off, and smugly framed it.


It's their second day in their new home – a brownstone, like Rachel always dreamed of – and Jesse's done about 90% of the heavy lifting. While he lugs in box after box, Rachel skips passed him with small items, a vase, some books, a bag of clothes. A smug smirk, too.

Some would say he's whipped. Those who wouldn't would be wrong.

His main task of the day has been to go to Rachel's storage locker – which she's had since she returned to New York – to pick up all the things from her childhood home. Her apartment was never big enough to fit her entire life into, but now that they have three floors and seemingly endless space, she's decided it's time to bring back the obnoxious yellow and unnecessary amounts of glitter.

Jesse is just thrilled.

Two and a half years into their relationship and a mere six months away from getting married, now seems like the perfect time to upgrade from their old apartment. Rachel moved in with him eighteen months ago, officially, and about two years ago in reality, and Jesse's decided that his place just isn't big enough to house the two of them _and _his Tony Award.

Once the last of the boxes are placed in their living room, Jesse can't help but cock his head at the load that have come out of storage.

"Are you sure you're going to need all of this? You've not needed it in three years, and we've already got a lot of pictures of you to display around the house."

Kneeling in front of one of the boxes and gently pulling off the tape, Rachel looks up at him, aghast.

"This is my childhood, Jesse. Who knows what treasures we can find in the Rachel Berry Time Capsule?"

Jesse resists suggesting they might finally locate her sanity and instead sits down with a pointed sigh, pulling one of the boxes towards him. Scrawled on top of it in Rachel's handwriting is 'Official Rachel Berry Memorabilia', and Jesse is mostly amazed that he's not surprised by it. He's known her nearly eight years, and her more interesting quirks are now anticipated, though still completely adorable.

Tearing the tape off unceremoniously – and ignoring Rachel's scandalised gasp – Jesse pulls open the box, riffling through its content. He's under strict instructions to take out anything that might be of use, and leave the rest for sorting at a later date, but this box seems to be mostly full of stuffed toys.

Pulling one out – a small, green frog – Jesse holds it up for Rachel to see.

"Why are there staples in your toys? Please tell me they weren't harmed in some satanic worship of Barbra."

Rachel wrinkles her nose at him and grabs the toy from his hands, cradling it to her chest and making cooing sounds. Brittany and Santana brought their daughter to visit everybody last weekend, and Rachel has been rocking and cuddling every small, cute thing she can find since.

"Don't be so ridiculous. They were part of my Lady Gaga costume, before my mom made me a better one. My daddies can't sew, so we improvised with whatever we could find."

No part of what Rachel is saying is particularly happy, and Jesse chews his lip guiltily. Though she and Shelby may have forged an awkward connection, Jesse knows the rejection still stings. And given how devastated he was to hear her parents were divorcing, he can't begin to imagine how awful it was for her.

Leaning across the boxes, he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, feeling her relax at the brush of his lips.

"Let's keep all the stuffed animals in their box for now. We'll take the staples out, and when we have kids, we'll line the nursery with them."

Rachel's eyes light up at his suggestion – they always do when he talks about their future, despite the fact that they're engaged and he's definitely not going anywhere – and she nods enthusiastically.

"We'll put them all up on shelves and they can watch over our babies while they sleep and keep them safe and protect them from all the monsters. My daddies used to tell me that my lion toy would eat anybody who tried to hurt me and that the hippo would swallow anyone the lion didn't get. It helped me sleep at night, but nature documentaries became incredibly confusing, and a little bit disturbing."

"Is that why you wanted me to be eaten by a lion? Which, may I say, is a contrast to your vegan principles."

Rachel raises a challenging eyebrow at him.

"You know the show choir way – an eye for an eye, a vegan abomination for a vegan abomination." She's teasing, and though he can't help but think how lucky he is that she is, he replies in the same tone, smirking a little.

"I think I've done a fairly good job of making it up to you."

Rachel can't help the coy smile that plays on her lips, and she shrugs teasingly.

"I suppose so."

Jesse just shakes his head and laughs, his smile matching hers, before reaching out to take back the frog, placing it back in the box. Rachel whispers a goodbye – complete with a wave - as it's put away, watching as he seals the box back up.

Pushing the toys to one side, Jesse reaches out for another box, settling it between his legs before ripping the tape off. Inside, he finds a bunch of childish stationary, pink plastic rules, glittery pencils, and a stamp in the shape of a star. Its handle has snapped off, and Jesse can only assume it's from overuse. Digging under what seems mostly like junk, he finds something of interest – a denim bound diary, complete with a thankfully unlocked padlock.

Keeping it inside the box so Rachel can't see, he opens it to the first page. It reads: 'The Diary of Rachel Barbra Berry, 2002', and Jesse realises he's about to get a look into what eight-year-old Rachel Berry was like.

_Dear Diary,_

_Today is January the first, and 2002 is going to be Rachel Berry's year! I am now eight years old, nearly four foot tall, and more talented than ever! This year will be the year in which everybody finally takes notice of the most talented human being to ever be born in Lima, Ohio, and Barbra will finally recognise me as her natural born successor and will adopt me as her protégée and the closest thing she has to a daughter. My daddies continue to assure me that my fanmail to her merely requires a detailed reply that cannot be written in only a few months, and –_

"What are you laughing at?"

Rachel interrupts his reading, putting down an old pair of ballet slippers with a frown on her face. When he lifts up the diary, her eyes go wide.

"Were you reading my diary?! Jesse, that is private and confidential, and if you've read the first page you will know that you are now liable to being sued!"

She reaches out to take it from him, but he jerks it out of her reach with a laugh. As he does, a piece of paper flutters out of the pages, and he puts the diary back in the box to pick it up instead. And as he unfolds it, he is so glad he does.

At the top of the page, written in pink sparkly gel pen and underlined officially, reads 'The 10 Things Rachel Berry's Future Husband Must Be'. Rachel is distracted fishing the diary out of the box, and when Jesse clears his throats and reads the title, she freezes, before slowly sitting up.

Now, he thinks, is the perfect time to try his presenting voice.

"'Number one – Rachel Berry's future husband must be talented. This includes talent in singing, dancing, and acting.' That's a tick for me. Shall we make sure I fit all of these? We wouldn't want to disappoint Rachel Berry circa 2002."

"Unless it says that Rachel Berry's future husband must mock her incredibly adorable eight-year-old self then I think you should go back to looking through the boxes."

Both he and Rachel know that's not going to happen.

"'Number two – Rachel Berry's future husband' – did you have to write that every time? – 'must love Broadway, and must have watched all of Rachel Berry's top 10 musicals.' Is that on a separate list? I feel you should have added an appendix. It's quite an unclear instruction otherwise."

"You're cruel, Jesse St. James." Rachel is pouting at him, a blush colouring her cheeks, and he leans down to kiss her teasingly, a smirk on his face.

"And you're going to marry me, Rachel Berry. Once we've made sure I fit everything on this list."

She rolls her eyes, but she shifts to sit next to him, nuzzling into his arm, and he takes it as his cue to continue.

"'Number three – Rachel Berry's future husband must love animals, and be okay with having a cat.' Tick for that one, since we're going down to the shelter next week. 'Number four – Rachel Berry's future husband must sing duets with her.' Given that we sung our way through _Les Miserables_ after dinner last night, including what I must say was a rather spectacular rendition of _A Heart Full Of Love_, I definitely pass that one."

"It was rather spectacular, especially considering I don't naturally connect with Cosette."

Jesse is smug to see that Rachel has given up fighting his teasing.

"I'm not sure I agree with that. Cosette is the symbol of love in the show, and you're the symbol of love in my life. You're not as different as you seem to think."

Rachel turns to kiss his shoulder with a happy smile, and he can't help but mirror her expression. Though he's sure at least some of her happiness stems from his ability to correctly interpret _Les Mis._

Turning back to her list, he clears his throat again.

"'Number five – Rachel Berry's future husband must be kind. This includes being kind enough to buy her lots of bling.'"

Jesse can't hold in a laugh, and he reaches out to tap her engagement ring. It's unnecessarily huge – and unnecessarily expensive – but he'd known it was perfect for them, price be damned. Though between that and their new home, he's never been more glad to be a trust fund kid.

"Is that bling enough for you?"

Holding it up in front of them, Rachel tilts her head with a teasing expression of judgement, narrowing her eyes a little as she shifts the diamond to sparkle in the light.

"I'm not sure. It's a little on the small side."

"Of course, silly me. You can almost see your finger beneath it."

Rachel laughs that ridiculous cackle of hers, and Jesse beams.

"'Number six – Rachel Berry's future husband must be handsome. This can be measured by how pretty his eyes are and how nice his hair is.' Do I even need to make a comment on that one?"

Rachel rolls her eyes.

"Is the next one that Rachel Berry's future husband must be modest and not egotistical or narcissistic in the slightest?"

"You wrote the list. Let's see. Though you've spent the entire time referring to yourself in third person, so I highly doubt it. 'Number seven – Rachel Berry's future husband must hold her hand and kiss her on the lips.'" Jesse can't help but smile. "That's actually kind of adorable."

Unexpectedly, Rachel shakes her head.

"I still hadn't been kissed by then. Or had my hand held. I'd had offers, but nobody was ever good enough."

In response – and mostly just because he can – Jesse leans down to kiss her, running his tongue over her bottom lip.

"Lucky you found me." He doesn't bother hiding his smugness. "'Number eight – Rachel Berry's future husband must get on well with her daddies.' I like to think that's true, but I do sometimes wonder if I'm being lulled into a false sense of security so that nobody suspects them when my body turns up in a ditch somewhere along the Mexican border."

The look Rachel gives him is one of pure confusion, and she merely shakes her head again.

"Sometimes I think my dads prefer you to me. It's very insulting."

"Perfectly understandable, though." Rachel elbows him, and tuts loudly when he mutters 'domestic violence' under his breath.

"'Number nine – Rachel Berry's future husband must be intelligent, and be able to remember many facts, especially ones about her, about Broadway, and must know a lot of words.' Well, I flunked out of college, so I guess the wedding's off…"

He's joking, but Rachel's haughty reply makes him smile.

"There are many kinds of intelligence, and the fact that you didn't try is hardly demonstrative of yours. You were lazy, not unintelligent, and you're knowledgeable about the things that matter. You certainly know a lot about me."

Jesse leans over to kiss her temple. He's never been sure how to feel about college – though deep down, he knows it wasn't right for him – so he's always relieved to know Rachel doesn't think badly of him for it. She was so determined to finish her own education, but she's never made him feel like he's worth less for not doing so himself.

"Anyone would think you wanted me to pass this test and be eligible to marry you. Are you ready for number ten?"

Glancing down to look at Rachel, his lips quirk into a smile when he sees she's gazing up at him. Kurt once said that she looks at him like he hung the moon, but Jesse thinks the stars provide a more apt metaphor. After all, metaphors are important.

"I remember what number ten is."

Raising an eyebrow, Jesse puts the list down, gesturing for Rachel to speak. She's smiling at him with that wide-eyed, loved-up smile she gets when they're alone. The one reserved just for him, the lovesick one that nobody else is allowed to see.

"'Number ten – Rachel Berry's future husband must love her.'"

Jesse's smile matches hers as he ducks his head, capturing her lips softly. Most days, he can hardly believe he's lucky enough to be engaged to Rachel Berry. When he hit rock bottom aged nineteen, he struggled to imagine being happy or successful again. And now he's both.

"I guess I fit every criteria, then," he whispers, their foreheads pressed together. Before Rachel can reply, he kisses her again to taste her happiness, and then she nods.

"You do. Good thing you're my future husband."

"Good thing I am."

At their wedding, he proudly projects a copy of her list onto the wall, each item ticked off with an unnecessarily large green tick. He tells an anecdote for each, talking about how their cat discovered the risks of walking along the edge of the bath tub, and how her fathers offered to let him take the name Berry.

He doesn't really have a story to tell for number ten on her list, though. Instead, he talks about the years he's spent loving her, and how certain he is that nothing in the world could convince him to stop. He talks about how he counts his blessings every day that she can even stand to look at him, let alone love him, and recalls all the lessons he's learnt from loving her. He tells the room how each and every moment has been worth it, the ones that are happy, the ones that are sad, and most importantly, the ones that are humbling, and grounding. By the end of it, Rachel is crying, and he brushes her tears away with the pads of his thumbs and kisses her gently before reaching under the table to pull out a photo frame.

Inside is her original list, and Jesse hands it to her with a proud smile.

"I thought I'd commemorate scoring 10/10 by framing my achievement. It's proof to me I'm perfect for you, and though you only scored 9/10 on mine because you failed to bring Freddie Mercury back from the dead, you're damn near perfect for me, too."

Rachel takes the photo frame graciously, though can't resist rolling her eyes, and places it down before gripping his collar to pull him into a kiss. When they pull apart, Jesse can't help but peck her lips once more.

"You know you'll always be 100% perfect for me, right?"

Rachel nods and reaches up to brush her fingers through his hair.

"I know. We're perfect together."


End file.
